


Pretending

by SweetSinger2010



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSinger2010/pseuds/SweetSinger2010
Summary: They look like any other pair of lovers in the bar: pressed close, kissing, touching. But when they get back to the Ghost, they can't separate fast enough. Pre-Rebels Kanera.





	Pretending

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe that Kanan and Hera have never addressed their feelings for one another prior to season four, but Filoni is refusing to tell us what really went down, so I'm having to come up with this crap for myself. This is one of approximately five thousand scenarios I've imagined. Set four years-ish prior to Rebels. Posted on ffn.

Pretending

They were just another two beings in the crowded room who couldn’t keep their hands off each other; nobody looked twice when Kanan shoved Hera up against a wall.

He kept her pinned with his hands on her waist and she tilted her head back, giving him access to the soft skin at her throat. He allowed himself just a brief glance before he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “Anything?” He mumbled.

“Not yet.”

 _“Kriff.”_ He reached behind her back, pulling down her blouse’s zipper just a couple of inches. The garment slipped easily from her shoulders, where his fingertips then wandered. “The contact should have been here by now.”

“I’m still looking.”

“Look _harder._ ”

She knotted her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and pulled hard _on purpose._ “I’m trying to be _discreet_.” She sounded aggravated and just slightly breathless. She stood on tiptoe, winding her arms around his neck, rearranging her line of sight. She brushed her mouth against his. “Be _patient._ ”

“Hera,” he growled warningly. He hadn’t wanted to do this to begin with.

“Ten more minutes,” she pleaded, breath hot against his skin. “Then we can call it a wash.”

He doubted very seriously whether he could concentrate on their real task for ten more minutes; she was too close and he’d been in love with her for too long to be able to keep his mind where it needed to be.

And she had no idea.

“Fine.” The single syllable was harsher than he’d intended it to be, and she froze for just a second.

“I—”

His eyes burned into hers. “Don’t talk.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and he kissed her to make her stop. Digging her nails into his arms, she snapped her head back and pulled away suddenly. “The contact,” she breathed, “He’s here. Get the chip—he’s coming this way.”

He nodded and dipped his head, lowering his lips to her collarbone, kissing along it slowly, sensually as his hands slipped beneath her shirt, tracing the contours of her waist, feeling her bare skin. His thumbs stroked the base of her ribcage. Her breathing accelerated, but she otherwise didn’t react to his touch—until he cupped a hand over one breast, using thumb and forefinger to retrieve the small datachip hidden in the lining of her bra. For reasons he couldn’t even begin to explain, he took utmost care not to touch her skin there.

He heard a low hum in the back of her throat, a suppressed sound of pleasure, and her body arched toward his before she remembered herself and took half a step back to maintain some semblance of space between them. Kanan felt grimly triumphant knowing this had just become as difficult for her as it had been for him this _entire time._ He passed the datachip to her and resumed a more chaste hold, hands resting lightly on her hips. Her face was deeply flushed and she couldn’t quite meet his eye, but she continued to play her part beautifully as she waited for their contact to walk by and take the datachip. She had her fingers locked at the back of his neck, nuzzling her cheek against his, when the blasted contact finally, _finally_ walked by and took the chip from her grasp and disappeared.

She stood on tiptoe, body brushing his, and whispered in his ear, “Let’s go.”

Any onlookers would have seen two lovers aimlessly walking out of the bar, arms linked, leaning on each other. Nobody would have thought anything out of the ordinary, which was exactly what they had intended. But as soon as the _Ghost’s_ ramp raised fully, they couldn’t get away from each other fast enough.

Kanan paced to the edge of the hold and then spun furiously on his heel, facing Hera. “Now would be a real good time to explain to me, in great detail, just _what in karking hells_ was on that datachip that made a display like that worth it to you.”

She inhaled slowly, grinding her teeth, rankled by his tone. “Fulcrum didn’t say. It was just our job to pass it off.”

“Fulcrum didn’t say,” he echoed. He glared hard at her, the memory of her mouth on his crawling all over him.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asked irritably. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done a drop without knowing—”

“That’s not what—” He shook his head, made a disgusted noise. “Forget it.” He turned and she leapt forward, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“No—say what’s on your mind.” Her temper was just as hot as his was, he knew, but he also saw something very guarded in her eyes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he ground out.

“Kanan,” she warned, “ _spit it out_.”

He laughed humorlessly. “You wanna do this now? _Fine._ ” He bent down to put himself at eye-level with her, invading her personal space. She took a half-step back, unnerved. “Bottom line? I am _not_ going to play a ruse like that again. Ever.”

“Wha—” Hera stared at him, completely nonplussed. “ _That’s_ what the issue is? Having to—” Her fingers brushed over her lips self-consciously and in that instant, he regretted saying anything at all. Her eyes, guarded before, were completely unreadable now. “Are you kidding me, Kanan?”

But it was too late to backtrack. “No.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You _did_ agree it would be a good cover-up, remember?”

“Yes, but I didn’t necessarily—”

“I’m sorry kissing me ended up being so awful for you,” she snapped, shoving roughly past him.

_“Hey!”_

His raised voice startled them both. Hera turned around slowly, eyes wide and blazing. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Kanan forced himself to moderate his tone. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I _never_ said that.”

Her hands settled on her hips and her lekku were stiff. It was a dangerous stance. “Then?”

“ _Karking_ —it’s _you!_ ”

She blinked at him. “Me,” she repeated flatly. The expression on her face was edging closer and closer to hurt.

 “You—” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, deciding that maybe the truth was what he needed to tell her. “You’re…intoxicating, Hera, and I…” He looked into her eyes earnestly, getting so lost in their green depths that he was unafraid of his own, brazen honesty. “I know that things are what they are between us, I just…I don’t…I don’t have it in me to pretend anymore that I don’t _feel_ for you.”

She inhaled sharply and there was a long silence before she said simply, “Kanan.”

“What?” He answered softly.

She reached and touched her fingertips to his. Her voice cracked and she tried to cover it by whispering. “I wasn’t—I’m not—pretending.”

The statement and all its implications settled between them and for the space of several seconds, they just stood there holding hands—careful, hesitant. They didn’t say anything. It was strange, Kanan thought, how electrifying the simple contact was. Touching her, kissing her in the bar hadn’t felt this intimate.

He found he couldn’t pretend he wanted it any other way.


End file.
